


for you (walk the flower path)

by jisquish



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: ..... so glad that's a tag, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cinderella Elements, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Multi, Verbal Abuse, anyway HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESS ILYSM, binnie as the prince, felix + OC as the fairy godmother kinda skdjskdj, idk how to tag things just read it please, jisung as cinderella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisquish/pseuds/jisquish
Summary: Changbin is a prince. Jisung is a servant. Changbin just wants to find the boy at the ball that he shares a soulmark with.





	for you (walk the flower path)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spearbe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearbe/gifts).



> hello !!!! this fic was written for my dear friend jess(spearbe on tumblr)'s birthday which is TODAY OMG and it's also kind of a birthday present for binnie since it's his birthday in korea. jess is one of my absolute favorite people ever and i started writing this way too late and am honestly amazed that i managed to finish it before midnight, but here !! we are !!!!! jess i love u so much more than me and me dumbass words could ever express but i hope you've had the best day and that you dont,, hate this
> 
> this is the result of "royal au + soulmate au + binsung" and me just wordvomiting onto a google doc based on those three concepts for three days, and it is the longest fic i've ever written. my brain is completely and ENTIRELY fried and i really just hope u like it so lesGO <3

 

“Jisung, watch out, you’re going to skin yourself by accident if you aren’t careful.” Woojin’s hand shot out to grab Jisung’s wrist as the knife slipped dangerously despite Jisung’s best efforts. “Just peel the potato, okay?” the older boy continued, face dark with concern as he gently let go.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jisung replied, staring stupidly at the damned vegetable. “Haven’t gotten any sleep.”

Jisung’s vision swam as he tried to focus on Woojin’s frowning face. He couldn’t quite remember how long it had been--he just knew he’d gotten home from work yesterday and things still needed to be done to clean up the house and he’d only finished his chores an hour before he had to leave for work again. And Myungdae hadn’t been very happy with the fact that he’d worked late, so that had cost him another thirty minutes.

“Your stepdad?” Felix piped up from Jisung’s other side. Jisung barely registered Woojin gently prying both the knife and the potato from his hands as he nodded sleepily. 

“He’s always worse this time of year,” he said distractedly, rubbing at his eyes. “Everyone gets itchy about soulmates during winter, plus it’s around the time my mom… yeah. He’s just on edge.” He dropped his hands and smiled at them sarcastically. “So he takes it out on me.”

“Why does he care about soulmates?” Woojin asked curiously, and Jisung’s eyes slipped involuntarily to the flower soulmark he knew curled around Woojin’s ear, that had appeared there three weeks ago. The older boy still hadn’t brought it up, so Jisung and Felix hadn’t either, though they speculated about it amongst themselves often.

Jisung shrugged. “Sore subject,” he offered shortly. “Brings up bad memories, I guess. He’s always reminding us how fucked the system is, how we shouldn’t believe in it, blablabla. Hearing about it puts him in a bad mood, and that makes him more likely to be nasty. Nastier than normal.”

“You have  _ got  _ to get out of there as soon as you’re 18,” Felix said, looking equally concerned as Woojin. 

Jisung resisted the urge to laugh. “And do what? This barely gives me enough money for groceries and rent.”

“Why do you have to pay for those?” Woojin asked, brow furrowed.

“Myungdae doesn’t have a job,” Jisung said frustratedly. “Minsoo, Jaebeom and I all help out with that kind of stuff. I mean, I need to  _ eat,  _ I can’t just not help. They’d kick me out anyway, and I don’t have enough saved up for my own place.”

“Stay with me for a bit,” Felix said swiftly, and Jisung’s tired brain realised that his best friend must have given this a lot of thought. “My parents wouldn’t mind, they love you, they know how Myungdae-ssi is. You could save up and maybe get your own place after a year--we could even get a place together and split the rent--”

“Lix,” Jisung interrupted, wiping at his eyes sleepily. “I don’t want to impose on your folks. It’s fine. It’s not that bad. He’s not--violent, or anything. Don’t worry about it.”

He looked away to avoid seeing Felix’s gaze, knowing all too well the emotion that would be in it. Felix was one of the few to know some of the worst things Jisung’s stepfather had said to him, had been the one Jisung had come to sobbing more than a few times before, had been Jisung’s only support system after his mother died because he got none of it at home. Though he could barely even think of it as ‘home’ anymore. 

(Jisung was lying to himself, and Felix knew it better than anyone.)

Woojin, having set the potato and knife to the side, gently grabbed Jisung’s shoulders and steered him to the break room. “Lie down for a bit. I’ll cover your shift.”

“Hyung, I can do it, I swear--”

“Jisung-ah, I don’t want you to cut your finger off,” Woojin said sternly (or as stern as Woojin could get, anyway). “Just nap for a bit. I’ll wake you up before Rhui comes around.”

Jisung was lying down on the little wooden bench they were provided before he even realised what was happening. “Okay,” he mumbled as his eyes slid shut. “I’ll just… nap a little,” he managed to get out before he was completely swallowed by sleep.

 

It felt like he’d only blinked when his shoulder was being jostled again, and he startled awake. He felt like he was glued to the bench, bones heavier than they’d ever been.

“Huh?”

“We’re being called up,” Felix said quietly. “Big announcement or something. C’mon.”

“How long’s it been?” Jisung asked, throat rough as he forced himself to stand up.

“Couple hours.”

Jisung’s eyes shot wide open. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Felix gave him a look. “You needed it. Woojin told Rhui you were in the bathroom, it’s fine.”

Still half asleep, Jisung stumbled after Felix and the tail end of the rest of the servants as they made their way out of the kitchens in a noisy cluster. They were headed to another room in the lower floors where the palace staff usually congregated for meetings and announcements, but they hadn’t been expecting one yet this week. Jisung wondered what it was.

Rhui, the kitchen supervisor, as well as the rest of the supervisors (including Lee Minho, the young prodigy and leader of the palace guard) were standing at the head of the room looking bored. Minho caught sight of Woojin and their group as they entered and brightened, shooting them an admittedly unprofessional wave, but no one would ever dare tell him off. Partially because Minho, though bitchy, was hyperly loveable, and partially because he could break your wrist in a second. Jisung and Felix exchanged a glance--they hadn’t known Woojin and Minho were friendly, but they were distracted from questioning their hyung further when a voice cut through the chatter.

“Quiet down!” called the butler, a graying Thai man named Aud. The noise amongst the rest of the staff died down in the next few moments. Aud was not particularly imposing, but he was kind and well-loved, so no one ever liked to upset him.

“I hope everything is going well with you all,” Aud began in accented Korean, and Jisung and Felix shared an endeared smile. “This meeting,” the butler continued, “is to let you all know of an event that will be taking place at the palace soon.

“The royal family will be holding a ball,” he said, and the room erupted into murmurs. “Everyone here is expected to pitch in to help with preparations,” he continued as if everything was still silent, “and the ball will take place in a week’s time.”

“What’s it for?” someone near the front asked curiously, and Jisung leaned forward despite his drowsiness. He’d always had a strange fascination with the royal family, and as a kitchen worker, never got to hear any of the news with them.

“I believe it is another attempt to find a proper suitor for the Princess,” the butler said wryly. Jisung noticed Felix’s face darken dramatically, and gave him a quizzical look, but his friend only waved him off. “And to introduce the older prince to the public for the first time.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. Now  _ that  _ was news. No one had seen either of the princes besides their own personal servants--or at least if they had, they hadn’t realised it. Members of the royal family were permitted to dress modestly and go out into the world with their faces unknown until they turned twenty, and sometimes even longer if they weren’t the heir of their respective kingdoms. It was common knowledge that the older prince (there were two) had recently come of age, and people had been starting to wonder when he would be properly introduced to the public.

“They’re not  _ saying  _ that the ball is to look for a suitor for the Prince,” Woojin mumbled behind him, “but I’m sure it will serve that purpose as well.”

“So soon?” Jisung asked curiously.

The older boy shrugged. “I’m sure they’re not trying to plan the wedding already, but they’ll be looking for someone. It’s not as serious as with the Princess, cause she’s older and the heir, but they’ll still want him to marry fairly young, even if it’s not to his soulmate.”

“Must suck,” Jisung said, a little surprised. He usually regarded the royal family with nothing but envy, as someone who had grown up and remained quite poor, and who had a… less than desirable home life, but he didn’t often take into consideration the difficulties that must come with being regarded nearly as public property.

“Yeah,” Felix muttered darkly, and Jisung turned to find his friend still scowling at the floor.

“Lix?” he asked curiously. “You good?”

Felix seemed to notice both Jisung and Woojin looking at him, and shook the scowl off his face. “Yeah,” he repeated unconvincingly. “It’s fine.”

Jisung almost prodded further, but clearly Felix didn’t want to talk about it. He was distracted from the matter by Woojin turning to catch a glimpse of someone, then calling over the other servants’ heads as the meeting dissolved, “Seungmin-ah!”

Felix visibly perked up as he scanned the crowd for Woojin’s little brother. Seungmin worked up on the higher floors, so they didn’t see him much, but the younger boy was cute and likeable despite his sometimes biting attitude. Felix and Jisung liked to needle him for inside information on the royal family, but he was regrettably good at his job in a sense that he never told them anything exciting.

“Hi, hyung,” Seungmin said as he approached, his blue palace servant uniform swishing. He gave them all a little smile, and Felix slung an arm over Seungmin’s shoulders with a dramatic sigh.

“How’s our palace boy doing?” the blonde boy asked with a barely contained grin, and Jisung rolled his eyes with a smile as he watched Seungmin struggle out of the shorter boy’s over-enthusiastic embrace.

“I’m not a palace boy!” he protested, finally giving up and letting Felix lean against him, head against his shoulder. Jisung noted with a private grin the red blush that spread up Felix’s neck as he realised Seungmin wasn’t going to shove him in a wall. “And I’m… fine.”

“Too good to hang out in the kitchen with us peasants though,” Jisung teased, and Seungmin pressed his lips together tightly as Woojin laughed. “How’s the Prince?” he added smoothly, hoping to trick something out of the younger boy, but Seungmin just laughed and shook his head.

“You know I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“What am I gonna do with the information?” Jisung whined. “I’m just  _ curious.  _ I’m not trying to publish a smear piece.”

Seungmin just shook his head again with a soft smile. Taking pity on Jisung, Woojin said, “You’ll know a bit more soon enough, anyway, if he’s really being introduced at the ball.”

Jisung brightened, turning to Seungmin again. “Is he then, for sure?”

“Yeah… technically,” Seungmin said evasively.

“What do you mean,  _ technically _ ?”

Seungmin scratched his neck, eyes on the ceiling. “The Prince wrangled it into being a masquerade ball, so he doesn’t have to show his face.”

Jisung tossed his arms up dramatically. “He’s twenty years old! When will we know! I just want to see if he’s ugly or not.” He jutted out his bottom lip. “Is he ugly?”

Seungmin tilted his head. “He’s not ugly, no.”

“Seungmin!” someone called from across the room, and Seungmin turned to wave at them. “I have to go,” he said when he turned back, and Felix detached himself reluctantly from the younger boy’s side.

“Tell Chan hi from me,” Felix called after Seungmin as he left and Seungmin looked back with a smile. “I will,” he replied over his shoulder as he followed his supervisor out. 

Chan, Felix’s older cousin, also worked in the palace, apparently as a tutor to one of the royal children. If Seungmin wasn’t allowed to talk about his job, Chan  _ really  _ wasn’t allowed to talk about it, though Jisung knew Felix still got some insider gossip that he was jealous of. They rarely got to see the older boy during the work day, but he was fun to hang out with, if a bit of a dork.

“All right, people,” Rhui said as the rest of the staff were ushered out of the room. “Back to work.”

Jisung followed Felix and Woojin out of the room, already mentally resigning himself to a few more hours of potato peeling, and mind lingering on the upcoming ball and the mysterious prince it promised to bring.

  
  


\---

  
  


“Dad, I  _ really  _ don’t want to do this.”

The king looked at Changbin, exhausted. “Bin-ah, we’ve already discussed this. There’s no getting around it. You turned twenty months ago--the public expects at least  _ some  _ kind of appearance, and I’ve already given you all the leeway I can with this masquerade thing.”

Changbin pursed his lips and didn’t respond. He knew his dad was right, that as a prince there were certain things expected of him that he couldn’t just get around, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“You shouldn’t complain, anyway,” Jimin remarked darkly, and all Changbin’s frustration melted away as he turned to look at his older sister. She always had a ferocious attitude, but she was usually cheerful. Lately it felt like she was frowning more often than not, and Changbin hated that he knew why.

Changbin’s father grimaced like he was in pain. “Jimin--we’ve talked about this--”

“No,  _ you’ve  _ talked about this,” she said scathingly and leaping from her seat as if she’d been waiting for an opportunity. “I don’t need to find a suitor _ ,  _ I already told you I found my  _ soulmate  _ and you’re ignoring it because he’s not the type of son-in-law you want--”

“We’re  _ exploring our options _ ,” his father interrupted loudly. “Jimin, you’re my heir _ ,  _ your husband can’t be just anyone--”

“He’s not just anybody!” she shouted, delicate face contorted in anger. “He’s my fucking _soulmate,_ and I’m not speaking to anyone at that fucking ball.”

“Jimin, language--” the king protested. He looked a little pale. 

She ignored him and stalked out of the room, clearly done discussing it.

Hyunjin looked at Changbin, who sighed and nodded after her. His younger brother followed her out of the room in a half-jog. Hyunjin and Jimin had always gotten along the best. Sometimes Changbin and Jimin’s headstrong personalities clashed, and he trusted the younger much more to calm her down.

“I don’t know how to make her see reason,” the king mumbled as he collapsed into his seat, looking a little like he was about to faint. Changbin regarded him with narrowed eyes. He loved his father dearly, but he was not a very strong man, in any way.

“She’s right, you know,” he said at last after a few moments. 

His father ignored him.

“You can’t try and make her find someone else after she’s already found her _soulmate,_ ” he continued, unwilling to give in. “Besides, you rejecting the person she loves just because he’s not anyone special is such a cliche. And actually--he _is_ someone special, he’s _her soulmate._. You really think you’d find someone to marry her when she has another man’s soulmark?”

“Someone would,” the king replied, avoiding eye contact. “People would pay anything to marry into this family.”

“She’ll never marry someone other than him and you know it,” Changbin replied scathingly, feeling oddly protective of his older sister and more than a little frustrated with his father. “You’re being unfair.” Under his breath, he added, “And a coward.”

His father looked up sharply. Changbin wasn’t sure if he’d heard that last addition or not. “Just make her give me this,” he said with desperation in his voice. “One last try. If not, then--we’ll figure something out.” 

“I can’t  _ make  _ her do anything,” Changbin replied coolly. The king shut his eyes.

“I know,” he said after a moment, tone much calmer. “I know. But if I don’t even  _ look  _ like I tried, the public will never forgive me.”

Changbin stared at the floor for a long moment. “I can tell her that,” he said slowly, “but I can’t make her cooperate.”

“At least tell her,” the king said, exhaustion clear in his tone. “She won’t listen to me.”

“For good reason.”

The king just grunted, looking at the wall opposite him thoughtfully before saying, “But you’re not getting out of this one. No,” he interrupted quickly as Changbin opened his mouth to protest, “you haven’t found any soulmate or whatever nonsense, it absolutely won’t hurt you to talk to some nice young ladies. Or men. Mingle, Bin-ah! You don’t have to tell anyone who you are, just, please--do this for me?”

Changbin sighed, leaning back against his chair. “Sure, Dad,” he said, staring at the ceiling. 

_ “Whatever you want.” _

 

\---

  
  


“Jisung-ah?”

“Mm?” Jisung replied absentmindedly, watching his feet as he balanced on the icy stone ledge above Felix as they walked back down the village.

“I gotta… I have to tell you something.”

It took Jisung a moment to process the seriousness in Felix’s usually light-hearted tone, and he looked up to find his best friend standing still in the dirt road, looking up at him nervously. He scrambled off the ledge to stand in front of him. “Yeah?” he asked, watching his breath curl in the cold air before him and unsure of what it could be. “What’s up?”

“I… “ Felix broke off with a sigh, looking away and biting his lip. 

“I got my soulmark.”

Jisung’s eyes widened as he froze for a moment before he remembered to react, then let out a shocked, breathy laugh as he grabbed at Felix’s sleeve. “Lix! That’s so great, oh my god, when?”

Felix smiled shyly, clearly relieved at having told someone. “A--week ago? Or two?”

“Where is it? Do you know who? What--”

Felix placed a hand over his chatty friend’s mouth, effectively cutting off Jisung’s stream of consciousness with a little laugh. “I’ll show you,” he said, unbuttoning the top of his uniform blouse and pulling aside the left one to show what at first looked like a smattering of dots on his left collarbone. When Jisung looked closer, he saw that it was clearly a constellation, small stars connected by thin lines in the shape of a slightly distorted X. His breath caught in his throat, overwhelmed with the idea that his best friend had already gotten his soulmate.

“Lix, it’s beautiful,” he said, unable to keep the huge smile off his face. “What constellation is it?”

“I looked it up in my mom’s old astrology books,” Felix said with a nod as he pulled his coat tightly around him, covering it once more with a shiver. “It’s Aquila. The Eagle.”

Jisung shook his head with wonder, still grinning wildly. “That’s so cool. Do you know--do you know who?”

Felix looked down, lower lip caught between his teeth. “I’m not sure.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t notice I had it till I got home and was changing out of my uniform, and we were hanging out with a lot of people.”

“You don’t remember touching anyone specific?” Jisung said, trying to sound hopeful for his friend’s sake. He’d heard plenty of horror stories of people who’d gotten their soulmarks only not to be able to find who had a matching one. “Doesn’t it like, tingle or something?” he asked, feeling a little stupid.

Felix blushed. “There’s one person--but. I don’t know. It could just be wishful thinking. I don’t want to like, be weird about it if it’s not him.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped, and he wiggled his eyebrows at his friend, who shoved him away with a roll of his eyes. “Who!” Jisung begged, jogging after him as Felix took off down the trail again.  _ Curse his longer legs. _ “Is it someone I know? Come on, I wanna know!”

“It’s probably not even him!” Felix said, laughing as he warded off Jisung’s grabby arms as he tried (unsuccessfully) to tackle hug him from behind.

“I still want to know,” Jisung whined as he fell in step next to Felix, who just shook his head with a laugh.

“If I confirm it,” Felix said after a minute, “you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”

“Okay,” Jisung said with a sigh. “Gosh. I can’t believe you have your  _ soulmark.  _ That’s so crazy.”

“Guess it’s safe to assume you don’t have yours yet?”

Jisung snorted. “If I did, you’d be the first to know.” He kicked at a rock as the village at the base of the hill came into sight. “It happened during the work day?”

“It wasn’t there that morning, so yeah.”

Jisung hummed thoughtfully. “We’re always wearing gloves, though?”

Felix shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be hands. Maybe I bumped into someone and fuck, I don’t know, our ears brushed or some shit, and then I’d just never know.” 

The thought seemed to dampen his mood. Quickly, Jisung said, “It was probably something more concrete than that. And it’s gotta be someone that works in the palace. You’ll find them, I promise.”

He nudged Felix with his shoulder. His friend smiled, nudging him back, and by the time they came into the market area, they were bouncing off each other, giggling as they made their way through the small village like a pair of human bumper cars.

“Jisung!” someone called sharply as they came within sight of Jisung’s house, and he looked up sharply to see his older step-brother, Minsoo, standing on the rickety porch looking cross. “Dad needs you!”

Jisung turned to Felix with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow I guess?” he asked, ignoring the glare he saw Felix shoot in Minsoo’s direction.

“Yeah,” Felix confirmed. “Come over if you have any free time.”

“I won’t,” Jisung said with a wry smile. Felix turned to walk away, and Jisung called after him, “Hey Lix?” 

When he turned to look at him, Jisung said with a twitch of his lips, “Do you think it’s Seungmin-ah?”

Felix turned around and kept walking, flipping Jisung off over his shoulder as he went.

 

\---

  
  


Changbin clasped his gloved hands together over his mouth, breathing into them in an effort to warm at least some part of his body. It was the middle of winter, and the town at the bottom of the hill was covered in a thick layer of frost and snow. It made for a beautiful sight to look at, but a less-than-desirable temperature even with Changbin’s heavy coat. His heart ached for those who might not have even that, and made a mental note to make sure all the citizens had sufficient winter gear to stay warm (or at least as warm as was possible) during the bitterest months.

He liked to come down into the village, especially as he’d gotten older. It was fun to just walk around and people-watch, and he also knew it was his last chance to interact with the public as someone other than royalty since his face still hadn’t really been publicly revealed. Jimin always used to love coming down and shopping around the market, though of course it was a lot harder in recent years.

Though technically Changbin was perfectly allowed to make friends in the village, he never had--most friends were made through school, anyway, and he’d always had private tutors. There were a few faces he recognized and offered a hesitant smile, but he barely knew their names and was sure they didn’t know his.

It was okay, mostly. He had made peace with the fact that he would never have what was considered a ‘normal’ life. But sometimes the loneliness was a lot heavier than usual.

He wandered around for a bit, then selected a snow pear from the cart and got in line for a vendor behind a boy who looked to be about his age, carrying a small bag full of fruit, nose just peeking over the top of a ratty scarf.

Changbin vaguely noticed out of the corner of his eye as the boy in front of him approached the vendor, showing the salesman his selection. The man barked the price at him, and the boy pulled some crumpled won out of his pocket.

Only half-paying attention, Changbin still noticed when the boy’s face fell and his cheeks reddened.

“Oh,” he stuttered, voice a little higher than Changbin would have expected, “I-I’m so sorry--I thought I had enough, let me--”

“Could you just hurry up,” the salesman said in an exasperated voice. “You’re holding up the line.”

“Of c-course--I’ll put these back--”

“How much do you need?” Changbin asked, stepping forward without even thinking about it, one hand on his wallet. The boy met his eyes with a round, shocked stare, still clutching the fruit.

“You--you d-don’t need to do that,” he exclaimed the moment he seemed to realise what Changbin was saying. 

Gently (as the boy seemed rather anxious), Changbin said, “It’s really no trouble. How much?”

What Changbin could see of the boy’s face was bright red as he mumbled the price--really barely anything, it was shameful of the vendor to treat him like that. The boy tried to hand Changbin the damp bills but he waved him off, passing the vendor enough money for both he and the boy’s purchases with a cool look.

“Th-thank you,” the boy mumbled when they got out of line, staring at his feet. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

Changbin shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s fine. He shouldn’t have been rude to you, anyway. It’s just fruit.”

The boy laughed a little. “Yeah. Still. I’m really grateful.”

Changbin fidgeted. “It’s no problem, really.”

Suddenly, there was a gloved hand being shoved firmly towards Changbin. “I’m Jisung,” the boy said. “Han Jisung.”

“Uh--Changbin,” Changbin replied, too flustered to give a fake name. He took the boy’s gloved hand in his own, shaking it firmly. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy’s reply was muffled behind his scarf and Changbin frowned, leaning forward. “Huh?”

Jisung shook his head and lifted his hands to tug the scarf down off his face, revealing  _ unfairly  _ adorable cheeks and small, ridiculously perfect heart-shaped lips. Changbin felt like his heart rate had very suddenly doubled.

“Sorry, said I haven’t seen you around here much?”

Still a little taken aback by having to maintain conversation with this Very Beautiful Boy, Changbin stuttered out, “I d-don’t really get out much.”

“You should,” Jisung replied, heart-shaped lips quirked into an easy smile. “You seem cool, Changbin-ssi.”

“Are you still in school?” Changbin asked in a strangled voice, trying desperately to keep his tone conversational. He felt all levels of stressed.

“Finished early,” Jisung replied. “I’m nineteen.”

Changbin felt himself smile. “Ah, then you can call me hyung!”

Jisung squinted at him. “How old are you, then?”

“Twenty,” Changbin said distractedly, before catching on to Jisung’s sly little smile and saying in mock-offense, “Yah, not a word about the height!”

Jisung giggled, half in surprise and half in delight, and the sound was almost enough to send Changbin into cardiac arrest.

“Sorry,  _ hyung _ ,” he said after a moment, laugh still tangible on his light voice. His nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold, a stark contrast against his golden skin, and white snowflakes were landing on his fluffy black hair. Changbin had to physically restrain himself from reaching out and brushing a hand through said hair. He felt a little dizzy.

“I should probably go,” he said after a moment of probably staring a little creepily at the younger boy. “They’ll be--they’ll be wanting me,” he said lamely, but Jisung seemed not to question it much.

“Oh, do you work in the village?”

“No,” Changbin said slowly, “no, I--work up in the palace, actually.”

Well, it wasn’t technically a lie.

Jisung brightened. “Oh, me too! What section are you?”

_ Fuck. _

“Um, I work with the… royal family,” Changbin said, trying not to visibly cringe at his own stupidity. What were the odds he would accidentally befriend someone who technically  _ worked  _ for him? He was such an idiot. Shit.

“Oh, for real?” Jisung asked, eyes wide and eyebrows practically vanishing into his hairline. “That’s so cool. I’m down in the kitchens.”

“Is it a good job?” Changbin asked, slightly nervous for the response, incredibly relieved when Jisung nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh yeah, the staff is really nice, and we’re treated well. Doesn’t pay much.” He looked down at his small bag of fruit, cheeks reddening even more. “Obviously.”

Changbin frowned. “I’ve heard talk,” he said without even thinking about it, “that might change soon.” Immediately, he was furious with himself. Why had he said that? Because this boy was ridiculously beautiful and he didn’t know what to do with himself and now he would have to wrangle his father into giving the whole kitchen a pay raise?

(Yes. Exactly. But whatever.)

“Oh?” Jisung asked, looking interested but not entirely convinced. “That would be great. Then I could get groceries without embarrassing himself,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “But then again, I wouldn’t have met you, so maybe it was worth the humiliation.”

Changbin was going to actually pass out. He  _ really  _ didn’t get out enough if one (1) conversation with a cute boy was affecting him this much. “Y-yeah,” he managed to choke out.

Jisung smiled brightly. “Sorry, I’ll let you go--but maybe I’ll see you around sometime! Here or the palace.”

“Yeah,” Changbin repeated, amazed he’d gotten anything past the golf ball wedged in his throat. “See you.”

He was still standing there in shock fifteen seconds later after Jisung had waved  _ (cutely, way too cutely)  _ and set off in the opposite direction, and he had to physically shake some sense into his brain before he could gather himself well enough to actually move. 

He might have to visit the kitchens sometime soon.

 

\---

  
  


“What took you so fucking long?” his stepdad demanded as soon as he stepped through the door, and Jisung closed his eyes with a sigh as he pulled the creaky door shut behind him. 

“Stopped to talk to someone,” he said shortly, setting the fruit on the dining room table. 

“Make eye contact with me when you talk,” his stepfather retorted sharply, and Jisung turned to face him, rage boiling in his stomach.

“Sorry, Myungdae-ssi,” he mumbled, making sure to bow politely afterwards. The older man regarded him for a moment, then seemed to lose interest in being an asshole, relaxing against the moth-bitten couch. 

“How was work?” he asked boredly. 

Jisung swallowed a rude retort. “It was good,” he replied lightly instead. He’d learned a long time ago that saying ‘it was fine’ would only get him a screaming-at about ungratefulness. 

Myungdae looked up at him expectantly and Jisung swallowed dryly. “Uh, there’s going to be a ball soon,” he remembered, relieved that he had something else to share. “For the Princess and the older Prince.”

“Mm?”

“A masquerade ball, I think,” Jisung continued, wracking his brains. “Woojin-hyung said it would be trying to find suitors for them both.”

“I don’t care what ‘ _ Woojin-hyung’ _ thinks,” he said, tone unnecessarily mocking, and Jisung bit his tongue in frustration. He never knew what was going to set him off. 

“May I please go to my room?” he asked after a moment of silence. Myungdae watched him, then nodded dismissively. 

Jisung let out a breath of a relief, bowed, then turned to jog up the stairs as quietly as possible and into the storage closet he called a room. He collapsed onto his dusty twin mattress, staring up at the dark ceiling that offered no answers.

The house had been he and his mother’s before she’d remarried. After she had, the five of them had been crowded, but under the impression that they would be able to move soon. Then she had died unexpectedly of a quick-working sickness and here they were, two years later.

He wondered often if his mother had suspected his stepfather’s true nature before they were married.

Jisung certainly hadn’t. He hadn’t exactly been a fan of the guy, but he wasn’t under the impression that he had any say in the matter, as his mother seemed to be happier with Myungdae around. He knew that financially they couldn’t support themselves alone anymore--at the time, Jisung had still been too young to get a job, and even working maximum hours, his mother wasn’t making enough. So when Myungdae and Minsoo and Jaebom had come into their lives it seemed, if not a blessing, then at least an opportunity. For a better life. Or whatever.

Jisung wasn’t sure exactly  _ what _ was wrong with his stepfather, but he knew it was something. He was always, always on edge. If it had been bad before his mother died, it was insufferable now. To add that grief to a man who already had anger issues did not make for a very happy environment.

Jisung got the brunt of it, he knew--Myungdae had only ever really tolerated him for his mother’s sake, and he had the unfortunate disadvantage of being the only other person in the house that wasn’t Myungdae’s own son. Minsoo and Jaebom’s mother was dead too, he knew, and he also knew that their mother had not been Myungdae’s soulmate. In all the time that he’d known the older man, he’d never once spotted a soulmark, and assumed he didn’t have one.

Jisung thought that probably contributed to his stepfather’s bitterness a good deal. Jisung’s father and mother  _ had  _ been soulmates before his father had died, and he thought sometimes his stepbrothers resented that about them--as if it made any difference. They all knew as well as anyone that non-soulmates could have relationships just as real and lasting, but there was a certain stigma about it. Jisung didn’t think the weight Myungdae placed on even just the word, regardless of whether the connotation was positive or negative, helped the case very much.

Frustrated, he rolled over, trying to clear his mind of thoughts of his stepfamily. He wondered idly for a moment about Felix’s mysterious soulmate before his thoughts shifted involuntarily to the boy he’d met in the market earlier that day.

When the boy had first turned to him with dark bangs almost covering his eyes and Jisung had the overwhelming desire to push them out of his face, it had been a problem. That problem had only escalated when Jisung had realised that this impossibly beautiful boy was going to  _ pay  _ for Jisung’s fucking  _ groceries  _ because Jisung had made a fool of himself in public by not having enough money with him for a few fucking snow pears. But the boy had easily brushed it aside, even smiled at Jisung as he’d handed the vendor the bills.

As soon as he smiled, Jisung was gone. He didn’t know it was possible for someone’s smile to be that beautiful.

In retrospect, Jisung realised he should have asked if Changbin knew Seungmin or Chan. He’d been surprised to hear that he worked in the palace, as he’d never seen him at any meetings, but then again, if he did work close with the royal family, then maybe he wouldn’t have. Jisung wondered what his job could be. Seungmin was some kind of footservant, that he knew, and he was  _ pretty  _ sure Chan tutored one of the princes if not both. If Changbin was a footservant, he’d know Seungmin. But he also seemed too young to be doing anything more serious than that.

He’d ask Seungmin tomorrow, he decided, rolling over to blow out his sad solitary candle and plunging his room into darkness as he opted to try and get some sleep.

  
  


\---

  
  


As it turned out, he had no opportunity to ask Seungmin, as the next week at work was completely swamped with preparations for the ball. It quickly became evident that this was supposed to be a large event. Felix seemed increasingly dour as the ball approached, and though Jisung nervously tried to breach the subject a few different times, his best friend always waved him off with a forced smile.

As the kitchen workers would have most of what they needed to do condensed into the last day so the food didn’t go bad, they were put to work other places for maximum efficiency, and Jisung found himself folding a lot more napkins than he ever thought he would in his life, occasionally bantering with one of the younger workers, Jeongin. He would catch Woojin’s eye across the room as the older boy draped streamers between the columns with embarrassment, whistling across the ballroom in hopes of receiving a  _ “Yah, go back to work, punk,” _ so they could giggle as they went back to making sure all the fine china was unchipped and polished.

Jisung enjoyed being busy, so the time passed quickly for him. In that week, the staff managed to transform the barely-used ballroom into something that actually looked presentable under the guise of a masquerade. The day before the ball was spent mostly sweating in the hot kitchens, slicing vegetables and folding pastries.

“This seems like a lot of work to make a bunch of snacks for rich people to half-eat,” Jisung said after shutting the oven with effort.

“They’re not snacks,” Woojin corrected, dusting flour off his hands. “They’re  _ hors d’oeuvres _ .”

“Spare me,” Jisung sighed dramatically. “S’that it?” He pulled off the rag that was draped over his shoulder, wiping down the counter he’d been using. Most of the workers had gone home already, but Jisung liked to stay late, usually for hope that his stepfather would already be asleep when he got home, or that he would miss Minsoo coming home. Jaebeom wasn’t bad--in fact, sometimes Jisung liked to imagine that they were on the same side in that hell household--but it was the other two that Jisung would usually rather avoid.

Today, in particular, was rough. It was the anniversary of his mother’s death

He and Felix walked home in comfortable silence. Felix didn’t know the significance of this date--Jisung had never seen any point in telling him. Usually he got away with just a worse-than-usual screaming session from Myungdae and cried himself to sleep. He didn’t want to bother Felix with that when he already bothered him with enough--Jisung could deal with that on his own. 

He was nearly a legal adult, anyway, he thought determinedly as he approached the home. He should be learning to take care of himself a little better by now.

He shut the door behind him as soundlessly as he could, but as the latch clicked there was a sharp, “And where the  _ fuck _ have you been?”

Jisung let the air hiss out between his teeth as he turned to face his stepdad. 

“Work, saeabeoji.”

“You disrespectful little shit,” Myungdae spat, taking a step forward. His face was shadowed, his intimidating frame backlit by a lone candle on the kitchen table. “Today? Of all days?” He took another step forward, swaying a little. Jisung’s eyes darted to the half-empty liquor bottle that dangled at his side.

“You never deserved a mother like her anyway,” Myungdae said lowly, close enough now that Jisung could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You are the single, laziest… most disgusting child I’ve ever known.” The older man sniffed sharply, eyes a little unfocused. “You’re lucky I still agree to house you. Should have left you out to die a long time ago.”

Jisung took a deep breath. “You’ve been drinking, saeabeoji,” he said quietly.

“Don’t interrupt me!” Myungdae screamed, gesturing furiously with the bottle. The dark liquid inside sloshed over the edges, and Jisung stared at the brown droplets as they shone on the wood floor. “I don’t even know why…” He trailed off, obviously having lost his train of thought. Viciously, he started again; “Your mother was the only good thing about you.” Jisung blinked hard. He’d heard this before. “How does it feel,” the older man sneered as he continued, “to know that the only good thing about you is gone because of  _ you _ .” 

He punctuated the last word with a jab to Jisung’s chest. The younger boy couldn’t help but flinch, even though Myungdae had never once raised a hand to him. He didn’t need to. He did all the hitting with his words.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Jisung said, just as quietly. “It wasn’t--she got sick.”

Myungdae laughed mirthlessly. “Sick. Stressed because her only son was so worthless. Ate her out of house and home--she told me,” he added. Jisung was furiously trying to hold back tears. He  _ hated  _ crying in front of his stepdad. It only ever seemed to fuel the older man’s anger. “How, oh, she was so disappointed, in her stupid-- _ fatass _ \--kid.” Jisung wrapped his arms around his torso, rubbing his thumb against the ribcage he could easily feel through his shirt and skin.

“She didn’t say that,” he said softly, eyes still fixed determinedly on the floor. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Myungdae said, then scoffed. “Get out. Not tonight. I won’t take your bullshit, not tonight. And you’d better not be out late tomorrow too.”

“Tomorrow’s the ball,” Jisung protested, looking up and trying to somehow magically pull the tears back into his eyes. “I have to work--”

“Figure it out,” Myungdae said dismissively, turning around to return to the couch. Clearly he was done, and Jisung relaxed slightly, breath shuddery. That was much shorter than usual, but his mind was racing and his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

A flicker of his movement caught his eye, and his line of sight was drawn to the top of the stairs, where Jaebeom, his other stepbrother was sitting, looking at Jisung with something unreadable in his dark gaze. The other boy opened his mouth to say something, but Jisung had already turned and burst out the front door, chest heaving with the effort not to sob.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he got to Felix’s house but it felt like just a blink before he was standing in front of the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets and shaking. Felix’s mother opened the door, looking surprised to see him--Jisung supposed it  _ was  _ nearly midnight--and quickly ushered him out of the bitter cold.

“Are you all right, honey?” she asked, pulling him into a tight embrace and rubbing his shoulders as Jisung buried his face in her collarbone to hide the tears, embarrassed with himself. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Jisung mumbled after he pulled away, dragging his sleeve across his eyes. “I mean, I’m fine, I just--Felix?”

“Of course,” she said, lips pursed, turning to fetch her son, but Felix was already jogging down the stairs. He caught one glimpse of Jisung and seemed to already know everything, like always. In an instant he was at the other boy’s side, small hand clasping Jisung’s as he led him towards his room. “We’ll be okay, mom,” he called over his shoulder, closing the door behind him and pulling the shorter boy into a hug immediately, arms wrapped securely around the dark-haired boy’s still-shaking shoulders as Jisung broke into sobs.

After a few minutes (Jisung wasn’t sure quite how long), he managed to gather himself enough to pull away and wipe his eyes with already-damp sleeves. “Sorry,” he mumbled, frustrated with himself.

“Don’t be,” Felix said quickly. “Was it--him again?”

“Y-yeah,” Jisung stuttered, realising as his crying slowed quite how exhausted he was. “It wasn’t--it could have been so much worse. But he just said some stuff--and I--” He couldn’t seem to find the words. All that was swimming in his mind was his mother’s pale face, or angry red scars from almost a year ago that he thought he was  _ done with _ , or guilt pitting in his stomach over meals his stepdad felt he didn’t deserve to eat. 

“Just. Crueller than usual,” he finished after realising he’d been silent for a good few moments. “Can I--can I sleep here?” he sniffed, looking away from Felix’s too-knowing eyes.

“Of course,” Felix murmured, moving to his dresser and pulling out an oversized t-shirt to replace Jisung’s slightly damp work uniform. Jisung accepted it wordlessly with a nod of thanks, changing quickly and collapsing into Felix’s bed like he’d done a million times before. It didn’t feel as big as it had when they’d both been much smaller, but they could still fit.

“Thanks, Lix,” he murmured after several minutes of silence and staring up at the dark ceiling. It crossed his mind briefly that his house hadn’t felt like home since his mom had died, and that the Lee household was infinitely more comfortable than the place he and his mom used to share. He felt like he should be more sad about that, but he couldn’t seem to make himself.

“For what?” his best friend mumbled sleepily.

“Everything,” Jisung said. Felix just hummed. Felix shifted, turning to face Jisung, then Jisung felt him grab his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. 

Jisung quickly drifted into sleep.

  
  


\---

  
  


The next morning, Jisung gritted his teeth as he returned to his house, but there was no retaliation from Myungdae, who barely acknowledged his stepson as he entered. Jisung bowed to him in greeting before hurrying to his room to grab his things. As he was about to hurry back out to meet Felix, he found his way blocked by Jaebeom.

“Hey,” he mumbled, not really wanting to talk. Jaebeom had always been the much nicer of his step-siblings. He knew Myungdae was awful to all of them, but it was hard not to feel resentful when he was so much worse to Jisung.

“Hey, Jisung,” the older boy said, looking nervous and speaking quietly. “You have to work late tonight, right?”

Jisung bit his lip. The only way he’d figured he could make it home in time for Myungdae not to absolutely blow his top was by begging Rhui to let him go home early. It was going to be awful though. He  _ liked  _ working at the palace most of the time, and he needed the extra hours, and Rhui already didn’t like him much anyway. He had no idea what to do.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “It’s the ball tonight--I’m supposed to help do last-minute setup and maybe serve appetizers. But… saeabeoji says I can’t.”

“I know,” Jaebeom said with a wince. “I heard. But I have a plan for that? The bars will be full tonight, probably of everyone not going to the ball.” He laced his fingers together nervously. “I can keep him out of the house at least until midnight. If you can make it back before then, things should be fine.”

Jisung stared at him for a moment as he processed what the older boy was saying. “Wait… really? You would do that for me?” he asked, tears pricking the back of his eyes not for the first time in recent hours. 

“‘Course,” Jaebeom said easily, some of the awkwardness melting off his face. “I know he says--I know he says awful things. He’s--he’s messed up, okay? I know that. We all do. I mean, I still love him, he’s my dad, but--you don’t deserve that. And I’m sorry.”

Jisung felt like he was seeing Jaebeom in a new light. Without thinking, he pulled the older boy into a tight embrace. His stepbrother stiffened at first, then relaxed hesitantly into the hug, awkwardly patting Jisung’s back until he let go.

“Thank you,” he whispered fiercely, gathering the rest of his work things into his bag. “I’ll make it up to you someday. Promise.”

“No need,” Jaebeom said with an easy smile, and Jisung was struck with the fact that he must resemble his mother. He looked nothing like Myungdae. 

“Have a good day,” the older boy added as Jisung was about to leave.

Jisung grinned back at him. “You too,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried out the door to meet Felix, who was waiting outside. 

“Got everything?” the blonde boy asked. Jisung took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day. “Yeah,” he said, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “Everything I need.” 

  
  


\---

  
  


Changbin stared into the mirror, picking uncomfortably at the elbows of his suit. His mother had heeded his wishes by getting something relatively simple, even though it  _ was  _ a deep maroon, but--

“Do I really need the cape?” he asked with a pained grimace, grabbing at the offending object and flapping it behind him like a bird. “It’s so… cape-y.”

He caught his mother’s eye in the mirror, and the queen gave him a stern look. “The cape  _ makes  _ the look,” she said teasingly, and he groaned, turning to face her.

“Seriously, eomma,” he whined, annoyed with himself a moment later. “It looks so cheesy.”

“All the gentlemen will be wearing capes,” she said, lounging back against the chair while a servant stood attentively, glancing between them. “It’s a masquerade ball, honey. That’s the style.”

“I just wanted that for the masks,” he said uncomfortably, glancing down at himself. He hated formal wear with a deep passion, suits most of all. “Can’t I wear something more normal? No one’s gonna care. They don’t know me.”

“I’ll care,” the queen said in a tone that clearly allowed for no further argument. Changbin deflated a little bit. “And don’t complain in front of your sister,” she added as she stood to make her way out. “She has to wear  _ frills.  _ I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

 

Changbin had to admit that the ballroom looked beautiful.

The staff had done a really excellent job of decoration, and to see the ballroom filled with guests all dressed equally as ridiculously as him somehow made everyone look a little less ridiculous. There was something almost frightening about seeing everyone wearing a mask, but he also felt a little safer knowing no one could see his face. He had managed to worm his way out of being publicly introduced--the king and queen, of course, were not wearing masks, and were graciously making their way around the party, greeting people and shaking hands with warm smiles. Jimin was standing boredly next to Changbin, leaning against a wall and picking at her cuticles.

“You’re not gonna mingle?” he asked, teasing. She shot him a look, eyes glinting through her glittery blue mask.

“I just have to put up with this,” she said dryly, sounding resigned. It had taken a lot for Changbin and Hyunjin to convince her to even go through with the ball, and Changbin was amazed she’d even shown up in the end. “All I have to do is be here. I don’t have to actually make an effort.”

“Dad really doesn’t mean to be as much of an asshole as he is,” Changbin said softly, surveying the dancing guests. 

She scoffed. “I don’t know that his intent really makes that much of a difference.” 

Changbin shrugged.

They were interrupted from further conversation by a young blonde servant approaching, distinguishable as one only by his simple black suit, gloves, and mask, and his deep purple tie. Hesitantly, he dipped his head to the both of them. “Um… your Highness?”

Changbin realised he was addressing Jimin, turning to look at her. “Yes?” she replied hesitantly. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Ah--Chris, I mean Chan pointed you out to me,” he said, fiddling nervously with his tie. “He’s not, uh, allowed in, but he told me to tell you he’s over there--” he pointed to the south exit, “--if you’re wanting to talk.” He fidgeted for a moment. “If you don’t mind my saying, your highness--with the mask, you could easily. Leave. If, of course, that’s something you’d want to do.”

A slow smile spread across Jimin’s face. “I--of course. Thank you for letting me know,” she said, dipping her head to him. “You are?”

The servant‘s eyes widened behind his mask, cheeks reddening slightly. “Uh, Felix,” he said, bowing nervously. Changbin stifled a laugh, sharing an amused look with his sister at the boy’s earnestness. “I’m Chan’s cousin. I work in the kitchens.”

“Well. Thank you very much, Felix-ah,” she said, waving to Changbin and already making her way to the exit Felix had pointed out. Changbin watched her go with a wry smile. 

Chan had been Hyunjin and Changbin’s tutor for nearly a year now. Changbin had always admired the older boy greatly, and when Chan and Jimin had first met a month a half ago, had shook hands and gotten their soulmarks (a single dove at the base of their throats, easily covered by a high collar), Changbin almost hadn’t been surprised. His sister and Chan had similar goofy energies but resilient spirits, and they were so in love it wasn’t even a joke. 

But Chan was not from a royal family. He was a tutor, and technically a foreigner at that. So when they’d broken the news to their father, he hadn’t been as excited as one would have wanted. After all, the king and queen were not soulmates. They’d fallen in love without either having met someone who had made their soulmark show themselves, just like lots of couples--there were an awful lot of people in the world, after all. Usually the universe placed soulmates close to each other, but not always, and in the king and queen’s case it had worked out fine. Unfortunately, this seemed to make them think Jimin’s fate could be realigned to a more… desirable husband.

Lost in thought, Changbin didn’t notice as Felix bowed nervously to him, then hurried off to help serve appetizers. Changbin’s gaze wandered over the crowd of people dancing stiffly, and he slowly made his way over to the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

The sound of people’s idle chatter and the band’s slow tunes was immediately muffled and he sighed in relief, taking in a deep breath of the cool evening air. He was distracted from his brief content by someone sniffing, and turned in surprise to see another masked boy already leaning against the railing, and turning to look at Changbin with evident surprise.

“Oh--sorry,” Changbin said, frustrated and embarrassed. “I didn’t realise someone was already out here--I can--” He gestured to leave, hand once again on the door handle. The other boy straightened up frantically. 

“No, don’t, it’s okay,” he said, voice shaky. “I was just. Taking a breather.”

He didn’t look like a ball-goer, but Changbin assumed he must be the child of some diplomat, or something. Whatever jacket or tie he’d been wearing had been discarded, and he was shivering slightly in his thin black dress shirt, paired oddly with a pair of silk gloves.

“Yeah. Me too,” Changbin said with a sigh, moving to rest his forearms on the cold steel railing, looking out into the night. At the base of the hill was the village, lights flickering in some of the windows, most of the view just forest spread out into the distance. “You cold?” he asked, glancing at the boy out of the corner of his eye. Changbin couldn’t see any of his face besides his heart-shaped lips, which were oddly familiar for some reason.

“Yeah,” the boy said. Changbin paused awkwardly, wondering if he was supposed to offer something. “But it’s okay,” the boy said quickly after a moment. “I like it. Feels real.”

Changbin rolled that thought over in his mind. “Yeah, okay,” he decided. “What were you taking a breather from?” he continued, not sure  _ why  _ on earth he was trying to make small talk with a stranger but strangely unwilling to stop. 

The boy shrugged. “Crowds. People. My friend told me to step out for a bit. Today is not the best day for this to happen.”

“Why?”

The boy tilted his head from side to side as he decided to answer. “Anniversary of a shitty thing,” he said finally.

Changbin didn’t press further, just stood there in oddly comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Why are  _ you  _ out here?” the boy said, startling Changbin as his voice cut through the cold night air. His tone wasn’t accusing, just curious, and friendlier than Changbin would have expected any rich kid to treat a stranger.

“Everything in there feels a little fake,” he said after a long pause. “Everyone’s so stiff and stressed.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “They’re just trying to figure out who the royal kids are.”

The other boy snorted at that, turning to face him, and they held eye contact through both their masks for a brief, tense moment before the other broke it. “I like you,” he said, a soft smile curling those heart-shaped lips as he glanced back out towards where the village glinted like a lantern in the distance. “You’re cool.”

Something about that felt  _ so  _ familiar, like there was a feather itching the back of Changbin’s brain. He nearly asked the boy if they’d met before--maybe he was from a neighboring kingdom and they’d been forced into interaction at some different stuffy event?--but he was distracted by a sudden change in the muffled music as the band changed to something uncharacteristically upbeat.

As Changbin turned to look back at the boy, he felt a strange impulse come over him as they made eye contact once more. The wind whistled through the buttons in Changbin’s shirt and it felt like it was blowing courage into his soul, filling his lungs with the strength required to ‘live a little,’ as Jimin would say.

“May I have this dance?” he asked jokingly, extending a nervous hand to the other boy, who stared at it for a moment because his eyes flicked back up to Changbin’s. And then there was a gloved hand in his. 

“Of course.”

 

The next forty five or so minutes were maybe the most fun Changbin could remember having in a long time. 

Changbin, while occasionally shy, was not someone that had a lot of shame, and the other boy (they seemed to have a silent mutual agreement not to ask each other’s names) clearly shared that quality with him. For maybe a couple minutes the judgmental prickles of others’ gazes on the back of Changbin’s neck bothered him, but soon his vision tunneled to just the other boy’s wide smile and gloved hands in his.

They started off jokingly waltzing with exaggerated stiffness, swaying like drunkards as giggles spilled from both their lips. It quickly escalated to more liberated dancing, ridiculous shoulder shimmies and Changbin twirling the other boy out and in, feeling slightly light-headed every time the other boy’s eyes met his, crinkled into a smile.

Changbin wanted to ask the boy more about himself--his name, where he was from--but it felt like they were trapped in some sort of magical spell that he was tentative to break. Everything felt shrouded in a golden haze, ten times more beautiful than usual, new and slightly frightening, and Changbin didn’t want to do anything to mess that up.

After a bit, the other boy doubled over with laughter when Changbin did a particularly dorky attempt at a body roll (certainly convincing everyone around them that he was  _ not  _ the Prince, he was sure). The other boy grabbed his wrist, leaning in to make himself heard over the music, breath tickling Changbin’s ear. “Break!” he shouted, pulling away from the crowd, Changbin following after him.

The masked boy leaned dramatically against the wall, glancing around. Changbin saw him suddenly tense up and followed his line of sight to what seemed like a random servant.

“You okay?”

The other boy nodded distractedly. “Just--probably shouldn’t be. Doing this,” he said with a stilted laugh.

“Don’t worry about what you should be doing,” Changbin said, feeling surprisingly daring, even though he was hardly meek. “Do what you want to.”

The boy looked at Changbin with shining eyes and half a grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He pushed himself to a fully standing position and ran a hand through slightly-sweaty hair. “Can’t breathe in here, though,” he said, and gestured toward one of the exits. “Wanna go sit on the steps?”

He knew his way around the palace surprisingly well, and Changbin nodded without a second thought, already taking the still-gloved hand the boy offered and following behind without a second thought. They pushed open the heavy double doors and settled on the stone steps that faced the path down the hill, looking out into the night with matching nervous smiles. The other boy leaned forward, taking his gloves off and sighing in content as he loosened the laces on his dress shoes. 

“They don’t fit me very well,” he said in response to Changbin’s questioning glance. “I hate suits and this kind of stuff, anyway.”

“Me too,” Changbin said, bracing his hands behind him on the cool cement and leaning back, watching out of his peripheral vision as the other boy did the same.

“Tonight was way more fun than I thought it would be,” he said after a moment of silence.

“Same,” the other boy replied quickly. “It was--it was really great to meet you,” he said, and when Changbin glanced over he saw a blush creeping up his neck.  _ Cute.  _

“Y-yeah,” Changbin said, fighting back a smile. “Same.”

They went back to a comfortable silence, the cool night air welcome after the stuffiness inside the ballroom. Changbin swallowed thickly, then slowly, slowly, moved his hand over, feeling a little bit like a dumbass thirteen year old but still probably not as embarrassed as he should be. 

He felt his hand brush the other boy’s, like lightning had just shot up his arm. He lingered there for a moment, letting the other make his own mind up.

The masked boy slowly tangled his fingers in Changbin’s. Changbin bit his lip as he grinned, still staring straight ahead as he felt the other’s palm warm against his own.

They sat like that in silence for several minutes, comfortable and relaxed, holding hands like a couple of preteens at a school dance, but Changbin didn’t mind. It occurred to him that he still didn’t know the boy’s name, or anything else about him, and he was about to open his mouth to ask when the boy started like he’d just remembered something.

“Shit,” he mumbled, scrabbling at the ground next to him as he picked up his gloves and jumped to his feet. “What time is it? Shit.”

Changbin stumbled to a standing position, confused. “Uh? The eleventh bell rang probably about a half hour ago? Or forty-five?”

“Fuck, shit, I have to--go--”

He broke off, staring at Changbin, who for a moment stared back, perplexed at his sudden silence until he saw something that definitely had  _ not  _ been there 10 minutes ago.

There was a small rose--or the image of one, that is--delicately adorning the other boy’s cheek. It was partially covered by his mask, but still visible, and the stem, a pale green that seemed to have something more intricate woven into it that Changbin couldn’t quite see in the darkness, curled behind his ear and down his neck, disappearing below his shirt collar.

A soulmark.

And from the way the boy was staring at Changbin’s own cheek, he very likely had a matching one.

Which meant that maybe when he’d touched the boy’s hand and it had felt like lightning in his skin, it hadn’t just been the nerves.

“I have to go,” the boy whispered, still staring at him. “I  _ really  _ have to go.”

“Wait,” Changbin said desperately, hand still tingling from the loss of warmth. “Wait, can you just--can we talk--”

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered, stumbling backwards. “I have to…” He trailed off, turning and starting down the stairs. Changbin felt lightheaded.

“Wait,” he said quietly, then again louder, “ _ Wait _ !” He started down the stairs after the other boy, a mix of emotions boiling in his chest, but the other broke into a run down the hill and Changbin came to a halt, partially from shock and partially out of an unwillingness to chase someone who was clearly fleeing.

He grabbed his collar, pulling it aside and looking down at his own neck and chest. Right over his heart was the very clear beginning of a flower stem. Up close, he could see that the stem was in fact made of messily scrawled writing, in a pale emerald ink. Repeated over and over, crawling up his neck to where he knew the rose was blooming on his cheek, were the words ‘for you.’

  
  


\---

  
  


Jisung didn’t think he’d ever gotten home from the palace that fast before. He could hardly feel his legs. It felt like his blood had evaporated, like everything that made his body a body had just decided to take a vacation. 

Soulmark. He had a soulmark. And a  _ soulmate.  _

And his soulmate was a boy whose name he didn’t even know, whose  _ face,  _ he barely knew, who was probably some diplomat’s son or someone way, way,  _ way  _ too important to ever actually be allowed to be with Jisung, and whose smile turned Jisung’s stomach into a swirling mess of butterflies and fireflies and--

Suddenly he was standing in front of the door to his house. He took a deep breath, pushing it open, hoping against hope that Jaebeom hadn’t been fucking with him, that nothing had gone wrong and that he wouldn’t be home.

The living room was empty. Jisung breathed a sigh of relief, going immediately to his closet of a room and collapsing onto the bed as a sob choked its way up his throat.

He had a soulmate now. He supposed he had always had a soulmate, but it just hadn’t been something he’d had the luxury to think about before now. Somewhere in the back of his mind, whenever he’d allowed his subconscious to wander anywhere near that subject, it had always come with the assumption that he’d meet his soulmate when he was older, or somehow had magically gotten out from under his stepfather’s control, or that his soulmark would be something small and easily hidden like most were.

Certainly he hadn’t been expecting something that swarmed from his chest to his  _ face.  _ He knelt next to the small mirror he had leaning against his bed, pulling the collar of his shirt aside to better see the tattoo. The colors were pale, but certainly  _ there _ \--a green stem made out of  _ foryouforyouforyou,  _ whatever that meant, and a small but very visible rose blooming at the apple of his cheek like asymmetrical blush.

He tilted the mirror face down so he wouldn’t be able to see himself in it, hands shaking slightly. It felt like when you found your soulmate that everything should instantly become easier, like the pieces of your world and future were falling into place, but he felt dizzy and terrified and like he wanted to run away and never come back.

He didn’t even know the boy’s  _ name.  _ And he’d run away without asking it, without asking really  _ anything  _ that would be vital in finding out who he was. But Jisung wasn’t even sure he wanted to find out who he was. He’d been a guest at the ball, an event for the wealthiest and noblest around, an event Jisung was supposed to be  _ working  _ at as a  _ servant.  _ (Speaking of which, he had not done much working tonight. He hoped Rhui hadn’t noticed.) He could think of no way in which he could ever end up with someone like that. 

And he’d never once expected to have a soulmark this visible. It was on his  _ face.  _ There was no way he could get around this. His mind wandered to Myungdae and his heart sank. His stepfather would not fail to notice this. And his disdain for soulmates had been drilled into Jisung and his step-brothers’ heads enough times with enough severity that Jisung was certain there was no way his seeing that could end well.

As if the universe had heard his terrified thoughts and decided to plague him further, he suddenly heard the front door bang open, followed by his stepfather’s harsh laugh and Jaebeom saying something indistinguishable. Jisung froze in fear.

“Jisung?” came the expected shout and Jisung shut his eyes tight. He couldn’t go out there. 

“Y-yes?” he replied, praying with all his might that his stepfather wouldn’t demand he leave his room.

His stepfather just grunted, and didn’t say anything further, and Jisung exhaled heavily, limp with relief only to tense up in a few moments when there was a knock on his door.

It wasn’t his stepfather--he’d never knock. “Yeah?” Jisung asked nervously, one hand reflexively over his cheek.

Jaebeom opened it slowly. “Everything go okay?” he asked, eyes friendly, and Jisung broke down.

Jaebeom shut the door behind him, kneeling awkwardly next to the younger boy in the cramped room and clearly trying to be as comforting as possible, which manifested itself in very uncomfortable shoulder pats. “What’s wrong, Jisung-ah?” he asked in a whisper, and Jisung lifted his face from where it had been buried in his knees to wipe the tears from his face and wait for Jaebeom to notice.

His stepbrother’s eyes went wide. “Is that--your soulmark?” 

Jisung’s following sob was answer enough. 

“Tonight?” Jaebeom asked, and Jisung nodded shakily. 

“Oh… Jisung-ah,” Jaebeom said, voice the most defeated Jisung had heard it, and his thin frame was wracked once more with sobs as he curled into his stepbrother’s side and Jaebeom for once did not seem to feel awkward comforting him.

“I’m so sorry,” the older boy said quietly after Jisung had managed to calm himself down slightly. “This should be a happy thing.”

“I just  _ ran _ ,” Jisung sniffed, furious with himself and voice cracking. Jaebeom couldn’t have known what he meant, but he still nodded understandingly. “And saeabeoji is gonna see and be mad and--I don’t know what to do.”

“I have something for that,” Jaebeom said carefully, and Jisung looked up at him through bloodshot eyes, sniffing suspiciously. “Huh?”

Jaebeom sighed, looking like he was vacillating between two options. Finally, he carefully extracted his arm from around Jisung’s shoulders to roll up his own sleeve. He licked his thumb and rubbed it on the inside of his wrist, and Jisung gasped, despair momentarily forgotten as a small tar-black key soulmark was revealed.

“You--since when?” Jisung asked with shock.

Jaebeom smiled wryly. “Almost a year now.” He chuckled a little at Jisung’s slack jaw. “Yeah. It’s Chaeryoung--the butcher’s daughter?” Jaebeom and Minsoo both worked at the butcher in town. “I want to tell Dad but--” He broke off, staring at the soulmark and biting his lip. “I don’t know. I mean--you know how he is.” Jisung nodded. “She works at the bookstore, and we’ve been saving up for a while--should be able to get our own place in a few months.” Jaebeom looked back up at him and whistled lowly under his breath. “Yours is a lot. How far does it go?”

“All the way to over my heart,” Jisung replied bleakly.

“Chaeryoung gives me a cream that covers it,” Jaebeom said, pulling his sleeve back to cover the small mark. “You’ll need more than I do, but you can use it. That’d--that’d probably be for the best.”

Jisung stared at his stepbrother like he’d hung the stars in the sky. “Thank you,” he whispered. Jaebeom smiled at him gently.

“Don’t mention it,” he said as he stood to leave, crouching a little to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. “Really,” he added as he was halfway out the door, looking back pensively, “don’t.”

 

The next morning, Jisung woke up a half hour earlier than normal and jostled a sleepy Jaebeom awake to ask nervously how to put the concealer on. Jaebeom blearily unscrewed the cap from the flesh-toned cream and gently patted it over the rose on Jisung’s cheek, tracing globs down the whole stem and instructing Jisung to blend it out while still leaving a thick enough layer to cover it. Jisung fussed with it in the mirror for a good fifteen minutes longer than was necessary before Jaebeom kicked him out of his room gently but sternly, assuring him that it wasn’t visible, and that Felix was waiting for him outside anyway.

“What took you so long?” Felix asked drowsily when Jisung hurried out of the house after a successful good morning with Myungdae, who hadn’t seemed to have noticed anything different about his stepson’s appearance.

“Sorry,” Jisung said, pulling his coat on and bracing himself from slipping on the icy ground. “Slept in.”

As they started their daily walk up the hill, Jisung silently contemplated telling Felix about the soulmark, about last night and the boy, but something bit back the words even as they floated to the tip of his tongue. 

“You ghosted last night,” Felix said accusingly just as Jisung was about to work up the courage again. Jisung felt heat flare in his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said guiltily. “I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s okay,” Felix said, shrugging it off. “There really wasn’t too much to do during the actual ball. Just was wondering where you were. I know you went out to the balcony, but you weren’t there later.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said, wringing his gloved hands in front of them as he walked and resisting the urge to scratch his face with fear that it would take off the makeup. “I had to get home before Myungdae, so I left early.”

“Oh.” Felix could probably tell that there was more that Jisung wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t push it. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The next couple work days passed quietly, in a calm sort of stupor while everyone around Jisung seemed to revel in the calm of regular palace life and Jisung spent every second in a nervous frenzy, always worrying that the concealer had smudged. His mind was always on either his soulmark or his soulmate, and Jisung couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to find him or never see him again. Myungdae told him in passing that he was the most selfish person the man had ever known, and it seeped into Jisung’s thoughts that night as he realised he was not the only one to be affected by how he’d run that night. Surely his soulmate--whoever he was--was feeling at least  _ something  _ about this whole situation. He’d asked Jisung to wait. He’d wanted to know more. Jisung had denied him that and now because of that they might never find each other again. Jisung found himself scanning every person he passed for a rose soulmark, but as every face turned up blank, despair pitted itself more and more securely in Jisung’s gut. His soulmate had to be someone rich, nobility at the very least. Why would Jisung ever even interact with that crowd? At the palace he always stayed in the basements and kitchens, and outside of the palace he was only in town, where nearly every was as poor as he was, if not more so.

(The morning after Myungdae told him that, Felix had greeted a Jisung whose eyes were still bloodshot and red-rimmed. Felix had asked several times what the matter was, but Jisung had ignored each concerned question until Felix gave up.)

On the third day after the ball, there was an accident.

Jisung had thought that everything to cause him grief in the near future would either be related to his stepdad or his soulmark, but clearly he’d been wrong.

No one had suspected that anything was off, except that a visiting Seungmin had remarked that whatever was in the oven smelled funny. Felix had groaned as he rushed over, putting a cloth over his hand as he grabbed the handle and swearing that these new kitchen aides better not have left the pastries in for too long again or he’d--

There was a burst of heat and light and a lot of yelling, and then the oven was shut again and Felix was lying on his back. 

There was a flurry of movement. There weren’t many people working today--just Felix, Jisung, Woojin, an older man named Hojoon, and a couple younger new workers who were out finishing their training with Rhui. And Seungmin, who had just stopped by the kitchens to tell Woojin something but was now kneeling on the floor next to Felix with Jisung.

Felix’s shirt had been on fire, but as he’d fallen, he must have rolled over it, effectively smothering the flames. The mini explosion had eaten a hole through it though, and his chest was an angry red mess. Felix’s breathing was short and stuttery, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight as he tried to avoid crying out from the pain. Jisung grabbed his hand on instinct, wincing a little as Felix squeezed so tightly Jisung thought his bones might crack.

“Fuck,” Woojin said as he joined them kneeling (Hojoon seemed to be frozen with fear back at his station), and Jisung looked up at him in shock. He’d never heard Woojin swear before. “Seungmin,” Woojin said in a surprisingly steady voice, hands busy with what remained of Felix’s blackened shirt, “go get Seoryoung. You know where she is.” Seungmin nodded, eyes wide and face bloodless. “Tell Jisung how to find Chan.”

“Fifth floor,” Seungmin was saying, and suddenly Jisung was being pulled away from Felix, and no, that wasn’t right, that was his best friend and he was  _ hurt,  _ Jisung had to  _ stay.  _ Seungmin shook Jisung’s shoulder. “Hey. Fifth floor. If you go up the South Stairs and keep straight, they should be in the third room on the right. No one will stop you if you act like you belong, and if they do tell them it’s an emergency and you’re looking for Bang Chan. Go,” and then Seungmin was gone and Jisung stood there in a stupor for a second before shaking sense into himself and taking off down the corridor.

South Stairs. He knew where those were. Fifth floor. He knew how to count to five. Third room on the right, third room on the right. He took the steps two at a time, breathing ragged as he tried to remind himself that he didn’t know anything about burns and that just because something looked bad ( _ really really really really bad _ ) didn’t mean it was. Felix would be fine. Felix would be fine.

He made it to the floor in what felt both like an eternity and no time at all. He had to stop himself from getting distracted by his lush surroundings--he’d never been to this part of the palace before in his almost two years of working there. This was the  _ royal  _ part of the Royal Palace, where the important people stayed.

He put a hand on the right wall as he jogged and traced it over one, two doors, then grabbed the handle of the third and pulled it open, realising that maybe Knocking Was A Thing a millisecond too late.

He also remembered exactly what Chan’s job in the palace was a second too late as he opened the door on what clearly was Chan trying to teach a lesson to two other boys. All three of the rooms occupants turned to stare at Jisung as he burst in, face and apron dirty from the kitchen, out of breath and probably sweaty from having just sprinted five sets of stairs, and he felt his face turn bright red as he remembered that Chan was a tutor  _ for the Royal Prince.  _ Or both of them, it seemed.

Which probably explained why the two boys were wearing the robes of the Crown and also why Jisung wanted to die a lot.

“Jisung?” Chan asked, thankfully saving Jisung from making eye contact with either of the Princes (whose faces Jisung was probably legally not supposed to even  _ see _ ). “What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”

“Felix is hurt,” he said breathlessly, eyes darting between Chan and the princes. “There was an… accident with the… ovens… “

He trailed off, partially from lack of breath, and partially because in the stolen glances between Chan and the Princes, he had realised something truly awful.

The boy closest to Chan was no one Jisung recognized, but he was strikingly beautiful, with a sharp jawline, stunning features, and plump lips--probably the younger prince, closer to Jisung’s age. But the boy next to him was all too familiar. For two stomach-turning reasons. 

The first being that, in fact, Jisung knew his name. He’d met him. It was Changbin, the boy that had paid for the fruit Jisung couldn’t afford down in the village.

The second reason was infinitely worse, and it was that there was an illustration of a rose on his cheek, with a stem of intricate green writing that curled around the prince’s ear and down his neck, disappearing underneath the collar of his shirt.

Changbin was staring at Jisung, slack-jawed, with recognition evident in his face. For a horrible moment Jisung thought he’d somehow forgotten to put on concealer that morning. Then he realised that Changbin probably also recognized him from the market--and  _ only  _ recognized him from the market.

Jisung wanted the ground to open up and swallow him forever.

All these realisations happened in a split second, and then Chan had stood up and moved to where Jisung stood, frozen. “Where? In the kitchens?” Jisung nodded dumbly, and Chan turned back to face the other two boys. “It’s my cousin--I’m so sorry, I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

Changbin was still frozen with shock. The younger prince nodded quickly, and said, “It’s fine, go,” and then Chan had a hold of Jisung’s elbow and they were taking off back down the hallway and stairs.

When they arrived back in the kitchens, Felix had been moved to lay awkwardly in the largest sink they had, which was really more of a trough than a sink. It was slowly being filled with water as a woman Jisung had never seen before poured out pail after pail over the burn wounds, the drain stopped up so that the sink would fill. Felix eyes were shut tight but he was still clearly conscious, groaning and twitching as the water came in contact with his raw skin. Seungmin and Woojin were standing at his side, and Chan and Jisung joined them quickly, Jisung trying desperately to tear his mind away from the revelation that his soulmate was  _ Changbin  _ and that Changbin was the  _ prince.  _

“What happened?” Chan asked, grabbing Felix’s wrist. The blonde boy opened his eyes upon hearing his cousin’s voice and grimaced at him before there was another splash of water and he hissed sharply, closing them again.

“We have new workers,” Woojin said. “I didn’t realise they’d done anything to the oven, but they put way too much fuel in it, apparently. He opened it and it just…” He gestured lamely, but it seemed to get the point across.

“Is he gonna be… okay?” Seungmin asked Seoryoung, voice much smaller than usual as he stared down at Felix, one stabilizing hand on the injured boy’s knee.

Seoryoung set the pail down for a moment, examining the burnt tissue. She was a middle aged woman with her hair pulled up into a severe bun but with kind features. “He’ll be fine,” she said shortly, and Seungmin’s shoulders slumped with relief. “It might take a bit,” she added, “and it sure hurts like hell now, but he’ll be fine. Of all the places to be burnt, I’d rather his chest than face, or hands or feet. And it seems to have only gone through two layers.”

“That’s good?” Jisung asked nervously. She nodded.

“Felix?” she said, lifting the pail again. “I need to keep pouring water over the wound. Ideally, we need to submerge your chest for at least ten minutes. Is that okay?”

Felix was biting his lip so hard Jisung worried he would break skin, but he nodded, and Seoryoung continued to slowly fill the sink. Felix moved himself lower in the sink, with intermittent hisses of pain, until the entirety of the burn was covered by the water and only his head, neck, and collarbones remained exposed to the air.

“Hojoon went to find Rhui,” Woojin said to seemingly no one, but everyone just nodded along, adrenaline still spiking everyone’s skin. Jisung turned to Seungmin only to find the other boy frozen, staring at Felix. Jisung frowned, following his line of sight, and realised with a jolt that Felix’s constellation soulmark was completely exposed on his left clavicle.

“Aquila,” Jisung breathed before he even realised he was saying something. The way Seungmin jolted to look at him only confirmed that he knew exactly what constellation that was, and the way the younger boy placed a hand over his own chest made it very clear that those same stars were etched into his skin.

Jisung looked away. Soulmarks were kind of a sacred thing, meant to be a bit private upon first realisation. When Felix was all right enough for Seungmin to tell him, he would tell him.

Jisung wouldn’t let his own soulmark dilemma cloud his happiness for his friends, he promised himself, all too aware of the thick makeup covering his cheek.

 

After another couple hours of first immersing the burn in cool water and then Seoryoung expertly covering the wound with bandage and gauze, and  _ then  _ laying Felix down flat in a cot in a back room and elevating his feet (?) (“to prevent shock,” Seoryoung had said. Jisung couldn’t see why that would help, but then again he wasn’t the doctor). Woojin and Chan had gone out to meet Rhui thirty minutes ago, and had finally gotten back with the news that they were going to have Felix spend the night in a spare room at the castle, just to make sure he didn’t get an infection.

“I can stay with him,” Jisung said swiftly, and Chan gave him a look. “I think you should go home, Jisung-ah,” he said gently in that tone he had. “Your stepdad will be wanting you.”

Jisung jutted out his bottom lip, desperately searching for a retort. That was the _point_ , he wanted to scream, that was why he _couldn’t_ go home, because he didn’t want to have to deal with that, and he didn’t want time alone to think about his whole… dilemma. But he could tell Chan wasn’t going to bend on this one.

“I’m staying,” Seungmin said, and Woojin started to protest, but Seungmin interrupted immediately, repeating himself with finality. Woojin looked at Jisung, curious about his brother’s oddly stubborn attitude, and Jisung could only shake his head.

“I’m staying,” Seungmin said one last time, quietly. “Okay,” Woojin replied finally, clearly bewildered. Jisung watched Seungmin look down at his soulmate with fierce protectiveness, and wondered if he would ever get to feel like that.

  
  


\---

  
  


Changbin had not been sleeping well, to put it gently. 

After the ball, he’d had no idea what to do except wait outside and hope that the boy--his  _ soulmate _ \--might come back, but that had not been the case, and three days later, he was panicking. What if he never found him again? He’d gone into the village a couple times (always covering his face with a thick scarf, which was thankfully appropriate for the bitter cold), but had never seen anyone with a rose soulmark, and he was growing increasingly panicked. 

The night of the ball, he’d had no chance to hide it before his father saw it, but he’d been surprisingly chill about it. Changbin saw no need to explain the entire situation to him, so he had no idea what his father assumed about the soulmate that mark brought, but it didn’t matter to him. Jimin had teased him about having such a large one, but had shut up quickly when it became clear how distraught Changbin was about losing him, and his sister had consoled him for a long time while he panicked in her room at 3 AM.

Around the palace, he saw no reason to cover it. He trusted Chan and all his footservants, and the only other people he regularly interacted with while in the palace were his family members. The third day after the ball, Jimin burst into his room unannounced before breakfast, slightly wild eyed.

“What?” he asked, a little concerned as she sat him down.

“Put out a search,” she said, tongue poking out between her teeth. Changbin furrowed his brow. 

“Huh?”

“Put out a search,” she repeated with a dramatic eye roll. “You’re a fucking prince! You know what the soulmark looks like. You said you were both wearing masks and didn’t ask names, so he probably doesn’t know you’re-- _ you. _ If you put out an announcement that you’re looking for someone with a soulmark that specific--you’ll  _ have  _ to find him.”

Changbin stared at her in silence for a moment as he warmed to the idea, and a smile slowly spread across his face. Hesitantly, he said, “Do you really think it would work?”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

Changbin pursed his lips and swallowed, nodding resolutely. “What should I do?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin said dismissively, “I’ll get the announcement put out today, tomorrow at the latest.” She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled softly. “We’re gonna find your soulmate, Binnie.”

(Later that day, during lessons with Chan, a servant had burst into the room. As Changbin focused on the boy’s face, he’d realised with a jolt that it was Jisung, the boy he’d met in the village and had nearly forgotten in the chaos of recent days. As Changbin’s eyes traced his face, he noticed the absence of a rose with more than a little twinge of disappointment, and realised that Jisung probably recognized him as well. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at the open horror on Jisung’s face, wanted to say hello or something, but someone was hurt and then he and Chan were both gone again and Changbin was more confused than ever.)

  
  


\---

  
  


Jisung returned home the day Felix got hurt to a furious for-seemingly-no-reason Myungdae, though that was about as much reason as he usually had. It struck Jisung as he was finally allowed into his room and began to break down that he was tired of getting screamed at, that the ‘worthless’ was starting to feel a little more true than usual. Jisung felt sick to his stomach.

The next day, the worst possible thing happened.

There was an announcement to the village, and probably to all the neighboring villages too. The older Prince was looking for someone. For his soulmate. The announcement detailed “a soulmark of a rose” and no further description, and the news that the Prince and a few trusted helpers would be going around to confirm a match of those who said they were the lost soulmate in a few days.

Jisung took in the news with increasing horror, hand flying to his cheek where he knew the rose was hidden under a layer of makeup--of which he was running out, he had to remember to ask Jaebeom to get him some more. The Prince was looking for him. Changbin was looking for him. Changbin  _ wanted  _ to find him.

He remembered the shock in the older boy’s face when Jisung had burst in on their lesson the other day, and winced. 

Because why would a prince ever want someone like him?

The non-stop discussion about the Prince and his lost soulmate only served to put Myungdae more on age, and ranted from dawn to dusk to whoever would listen about the foolishness of it all. Jisung’s newfound alliance with Jaebeom made it slightly more tolerable, but only slightly so, and things only seemed to be escalating. At work, nothing much was happening again--Felix wasn’t coming in as he was still recovering (the new workers who had messed up the oven had been swiftly fired), and though Jisung’s heart warmed to hear Seungmin ramble on about how strange it was having found your soulmate and how cute Felix was, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

He had no idea what to do, and no idea who to turn to. He was sure Jaebeom had probably put two and two together about Jisung getting his soulmark the night of the ball and the Prince suddenly putting out a search for a rose soulmark, but for some reason Jisung wasn’t eager to confirm that for him. The only person Jisung  _ really  _ wanted to talk to about it was Felix, but he was still injured and usually resting and never alone. So Jisung kept it to himself, and felt like he would slowly go insane.

The day that it was promised the prince would make his way through their village approached on cat’s feet, sneaking up on Jisung so that it was the night before and he still had not made up his mind about whether he wanted to be found or not. All his stepfather’s cruel words wormed their way through his ears to his heart and he feared both Myungdae’s wrath and Changbin’s rejection so much it made him want to hide in his room and never leave.

But at his core, he wanted nothing more than to scream to the world that Changbin was his soulmate, to fall as deeply in love with that bright smile as he knew he had the capability to.

That morning, as he slowly unscrewed the pot of concealer and stared at the soulmark in his reflection, he decided with a terrified determination that he had let himself be scared for long enough. His heart started pounding against his chest even as he just made the decision to let himself be found, a million  _ what if _ s running through his head that he pushed down with a stubborn shake of his head.

Changbin and him were soulmates. The universe had decided it was meant to be. So it would be.

He put the lid back on the concealer, leaving the soulmark exposed. Work had been cancelled today for everyone under twenty-five unless you were an essential Healer or something, so he’d intended to go over to Felix’s and maybe await the Prince’s visit there. 

His issue now, he thought as he headed for the front door and suddenly remembered his stepfather’s presence in the living room, was that he didn’t fully think things through.

“Where are you going?” his stepfather asked, tone not quite accusatory yet, and Jisung froze with one hand on the doorknob.

He would have to turn around. Myungdae wouldn’t accept any answer if he didn’t.

He took a deep breath, bit his lip, and spun on his heel to face him. He wished that he’d put the makeup on to take it off later, wished he wasn’t such an  _ idiot.  _

“Going to Felix’s,” he said, held his breath, and waited.

For a moment, Myungdae didn’t react, just went perfectly still, features slack and expressionless. Jisung wondered for a moment if he’d had a stroke. 

Then, very quietly, he said, “What is that?”

Jisung swallowed. “What is what?”

“Don’t  _ joke  _ with me,” Myungdae hissed, standing and crossing the room in two long strides. Jisung backed up reflexively, bumping into the wall. “Th-that,” Myungdae said, gesturing towards the rose on Jisung’s cheek. He seemed oddly unwilling to touch it. “What. Is it.”

“It’s my soulmark,” Jisung whispered. 

Myungdae’s face contorted in fury.

“You shut your mouth,” he breathed, whole body nearly shaking. There was true mania in his eyes, and Jisung realised not for the first time that his stepfather was not entirely  _ there. _ “In this house,” he said, and all of a sudden he had one hand fisted in the fabric of Jisung’s collar, “we don’t--we don’t  _ adhere  _ to that kind of cowardice, you, you, you fucking  _ slut,  _ how could you--how could you be this  _ disrespectful-- _ ”

“What am I disrespecting?” Jisung shouted, yanking himself away. “You? I’m sorry you never found your soulmate, but that doesn’t mean--”

There was a powerful  _ smack  _ and then Jisung was on the floor a few feet away.

He didn’t register the pain in the side of his face for a good few more seconds, too busy staring up at his stepfather with wide, horrified eyes. 

He never hit. He screamed and raged and said awful thing, but  _ never  _ before had he laid a hand on Jisung.

Jisung raised a hand to cover the bruise he could already feel welling up on his eye. “You--”

“Go to your room,” Myungdae said, avoiding eye contact. Where just a few seconds ago he’d looked like he was about to start frothing at the mouth, now all the blood had drained from his face and he was staring at the floor.

“But I--”

“ _ Go _ ,” Myungdae repeated, moving between Jisung and the front door.

Jisung pushed himself to his feet, feeling Minsoo’s eyes on him from where his older stepbrother sat at the dining room table.

Jisung drifted into his room like a ghost, and heard the door lock behind him.

  
  


Lying on his floor, with his ear to the crack under his door, Jisung could hear most of what went on in the front half of the house. He’d spent a lot of the first six months after his mother’s death like this, when Myungdae decided that locking him in was easier than dealing with him, and he felt an odd sort of almost-nostalgia for the uncomfortable position.

There wasn’t much conversation that usually went on in the house, anyway, but that wasn’t what he was listening for. Ears pricked, after several minutes, he finally heard a knock on the door.

No one answered it for several minutes, and then the knock came again, a young-sounding voice behind it going, “We’re here on Royal decree? If you have anyone who’s putting forward for the search for the Prince’s soulmate--”

He was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open violently. “No one here has a soulmark,” came Myungdae’s voice. “You can--move on,” he added awkwardly, clearly unsure how to speak to someone ‘ _ here on Royal decree _ ’.

“O-oh,” came the voice. It definitely wasn’t Changbin--maybe someone posing as him to maximize the Prince’s safety, or a footservant they’d had accompany the search crew. “Well, have a nice day, sir!”

Myungdae grunted. The door slammed shut again.

Jisung rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. So that was how things were going to be, forever.

He’d been crying way too often lately.

  
  


\---

  
  


Jaebeom pulled his coat around him tighter, dipping his head to his father as he left the house with a sigh of relief. As he went to follow the little royal party, he saw Lee Felix jogging towards their house.

“Don’t knock,” Jaebeom cautioned him as he approached, and Felix looked at him with evident bewilderment. It wasn’t unwarranted confusion; they’d never really talked before. “Jisung is locked in his room,” Jaebeom continued, looking past Felix to make sure he didn’t lose sight of the Prince and his group. “Get him out through his window--it has a latch on both sides.”

Then Jaebeom was off again, hoping dearly that Felix would heed his advice and not aggravate his stepdad further (at least until Myungdae found Jisung missing from the locked room, but that was something to worry about later). “Sirs,” he said, breaking into a jog and unsure exactly how to address them. “Sirs?” he called again once he was sure he was in earshot of the group. “Um… your Highness?”

They turned to face him. One man, who was clearly the guard, placed a hand on his sword. Jaebeom lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “No trouble here, it’s just--I think I know who you’re looking for,” he said, scanning the group with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure who he should be addressing. There was the guard, who was an oddly imposing man with an elvish face, then a very handsome boy who looked about Jisung’s age and another young man who had a scarf pulled all the way up over his ears.

Jaebeom remembered how far up Jisung’s soulmark had stretched, and bowed his head to the man with the scarf. 

“Your Highness,” he said, noticing out of his periphery that the other two exchanged surprised glances. “My stepbrother… I think he has the mark you’re looking for.”

The prince stared at him, sharp eyes peering at him doubtfully over the scarf. “Why can’t your stepbrother show me himself?”

“There’s a bit of an issue with that,” Jaebeom said awkwardly. “My dad… it’s a lot to explain. But I think I can describe the soulmark, if that would be sufficient. Then you can decide… well. Then you can decide.”

It struck Jaebeom that the prince was very short, but still somehow made an imposing figure, bundled up against the cold and staring up at Jaebeom with uncertainty flickering in his dark gaze. The younger boy, the pretty one, nudged the prince’s shoulder, whispering something to him, but the prince shook him off.

“Then go ahead,” he said, expression inscrutable. “Describe it.”

Jaebeom took a deep breath. “The stem of the rose starts over his heart…”

  
  


\---

  
  


Changbin had had a long day. Since the moment they’d begun, he’d slowly been doubting Jimin’s plan more and more. He thought he’d been doing it as a chance to let his soulmate know that Changbin was… well,  _ Changbin,  _ for them to find each other and for things to be okay. As they progressed though, it became clear that this was going to be something more exhausting. He’d lost count of the girls that had already come up to him claiming to share the soulmark, boasting obviously-painted on rose soulmarks that looked nothing like his before he even had a chance to tell them his soulmate was male. Not to mention it was  _ embarrassing  _ to be going from house to house as if he thought so grandly of himself, and Changbin kind of just wanted to leave.

As they’d left a house where Hyunjin had practically been shouted at, Changbin was feeling more than a little discouraged. So when a random young man jogged up to them insisting that his stepbrother had the other half of Changbin’s soulmark, he tried desperately to stamp down the hope that blossomed in his stomach.

“... and goes all the way up over the ear,” the man said, and Changbin felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. 

“And then down onto the cheek where the rose is. And the stem is made of words.” Changbin was stunned silent. “I--I don’t remember what it says,” the man continued, looking nervous. “But I--”

“Where’s your stepbrother now?” Changbin interrupted, head swimming.

“Jisung?” the man asked, blinking, and Changbin nearly stumbled backward from the physical force of that revelation. But--he’d  _ seen  _ Jisung, and his face had been clear, of roses or otherwise. But of course there were lots of ways to hide things on skin. 

It was a common name, he reminded himself, but that hope growing into his stomach was borderline crawling up his throat at this point.

“He should be at Felix’s house by now,” the man continued. “He’s… He’s a good kid,” he said, voice a little choked, and Changbin remembered what little the man had alluded about his father, whatever that could mean. “But he might be a little… nervous.” The man jammed his hands in his pockets, looking thoughtful. “He’s been told nonstop for a while that soul-links are awful things, so just. Be careful with him, yeah?”

Changbin nodded slowly, then again. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I… thank you. Thank you so much.”

The man shook his head. “No worries.” He gave them quick directions to the friend’s house Jisung was supposedly at at the moment, bowed awkwardly, then headed back. Changbin quietly told Minho and Hyunjin to go back. Minho protested at first, but Changbin reminded the guard that no one knew his face still, and after a lackluster argument, the other two began to head back.

 

Changbin arrived at the house the young man had directed him to, gulped, and knocked on the door. A kind looking woman answered it, brown hair falling from her loose bun.

“Yes, love?” she asked with a confused smile.

“Is--is Jisung here?” Changbin asked, and her eyes widened. 

“Um… yes. They just got here.”

“Can I… Can I see him?” 

She pursed her lips, seeming to hesitate, and in a moment of impulse, Changbin reached up to pull down the scarf, showing the soulmark, uncertain if it would even mean anything to her but hoping for the best. Her eyebrows shot straight up, glancing behind her and then back at Changbin.

“All right,” she decided after a moment, then moved to side and ushered him in. “Goodness, all right. They’re in there,” she said, pointing to the first door on the left down a hallway. “Felix is patching him up. I’d knock, if I were you.”

Changbin chewed on the inside of his cheek as he approached, gently rapping his knuckles on the door. The chatter inside immediately died down, followed by a voice Changbin half-recognized calling out, “Just one second, Mom!”

“No,” Changbin said. “It’s not--it’s--is Jisung in there?” There was silence from inside the room. Changbin bit his tongue. “It’s--I’m--well. It’s hard to explain. Just--”

“Changbin?” came a familiar voice. Changbin felt like he’d been struck by lightning, because that  _ was  _ Jisung from the market and it was also the boy from the ball and how hadn’t he put two and two together? How was he this dumb?

“Y-yeah,” he said nervously. “It’s me.”

There was a silence, then a shuffle, and then the door was flung open. Changbin nervously took a step back. Standing in the doorframe was Jisung, dark hair looking just as fluff-able as ever but with two major differences about his face--the first being that the rose soulmark was clearly visible on his cheek, the second (and less joyous) being the swelling bruise on the side of his face.

They stared at each other in silence for a second, taking in each other’s unmasked faces and soulmarks, and then Jisung had flung himself at Changbin and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, burying his face in Changbin’s shoulder. Changbin’s arms lifted without a thought to wrap around Jisung’s back, dizzy from the younger boy’s smell, the stress of the moment, the shock at having actually found him and of him being…  _ him. _

“I’m sorry,” Jisung was saying, and Changbin pulled back to grab the younger boy’s shoulders.

“What are you sorry for?” he said with a bewildered smile, noting with a pang in his stomach that Jisung was teary-eyed. “Hey. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay now.” He pulled Jisung in once more, bring one hand up to rest in his hair. “It’s okay now. I found you.”

  
  


\---

  
  


Jisung rested his elbows on the balcony railing, like he had that night at the ball almost two and a half months ago. He rested his cheeks on his palms, squishing up the skin of his face and drumming his fingers on his temples.

He wasn’t used to staying in the palace, and he still hadn’t really decided whether or not he liked it even after a month of what he’d come to think of as his ‘new life’. It was better than his stepdad’s house, that was for sure, but he didn’t live so close to Felix anymore, and everything was… strange. 

It had never occurred to him that once he found his soulmate that they somehow  _ wouldn’t  _ fall into immediate deep love, but what he’d failed to take into account was that he and Changbin were both very young, and they didn’t  _ know  _ each other very well yet. Felix and Seungmin had already been friends for at least a bit before they’d realised; they’d fallen easily into the couple status with nothing more than a few stolen kisses.

With Changbin and Jisung… it was different. Not  _ bad,  _ just a little harder.

“Jisung-ah?”

Jisung startled, turning to face Chan as the older boy squinted sleepily at him. “What are you doing out here?” the tutor continued. “It’s like, 2AM.”

Jisung shrugged. “What are  _ you  _ doing up?” he asked, avoiding the question.

“I’m an early riser,” Chan said simply, going to join him at the railing. “You’re usually not, though. Did you go to sleep at all?”

Jisung tilted his head, considering it. “Can’t sleep here,” he said at last. “Too much… space. How’s Felix?”

“He’s good,” Chan said with a smile. “Skin on his chest nearly looks brand new. He and Seungmin are disgustingly cute, as usual. And Seungmin’s older brother and his soulmate are doing well too.”

Jisung brightened at the mention of Woojin and Minho--now  _ that  _ had been a surprise, but after a month of getting used to their relationship, they couldn’t be more obviously perfect for each other.

“Felix misses hanging out with you all the time, though,” Chan continued.

Jisung sighed. “Tell him I will soon. I’m thinking of maybe going back to work--not in the palace cause that would feel. Weird. But maybe in the market in the village.”

Chan smiled. “I think that would be good for you. You don’t seem like you like having nothing to do.”

“I don’t,” Jisung confirmed dryly. “And Binnie’s busy all the time lately.”

“Yeah,” Chan said said slowly, a knowing smile curling his lips. “How’s that going?”

Jisung looked at him sharply. “It’s--going.” Chan raised his eyebrows and Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s kind of weird, right? It’s like the whole  _ universe  _ told us we’re meant to be together, and I don’t doubt that, and I really really like him a lot, but it’s--a lot to live up to, right? Plus we’ve got matching face tattoos. I still don’t know how to feel about that.”

He broke off as he realised Chan was chuckling lightly, smacking the older boy’s shoulder. “Fuck you,” he said, breaking into a small laugh himself, “fuck you, I am  _ confiding  _ in you right now!”

“And I’m listening!” Chan protested, giggles tapering off. “Look. It’s just funny because that’s  _ exactly  _ how I felt when Jimin and I got our soulmarks.” Jisung’s eyes trailed down to the dove at the base of Chan’s throat. “And both of us are in a weird situation, right?” Chan asked, eyes straying to the village below them. “To have your soulmate be…  _ royalty,  _ when you’re… not. It’s a lot.”

“Oh,” Jisung said quietly. “Yeah. It’s that.”

Chan touched his shoulder gently. “I know he’s been out a lot. I mean, he and Jimin both have. It’s--a big deal, for the king and queen to be letting Jimin and I…” He trailed off, looking at the engagement ring on his fourth finger, eyes shining in the twilight. “To add you to the mix is a lot for them.”

“It’s a lot for me too,” Jisung grumbled quietly, but he got it. Chan laughed.

“Yeah. But Bin-ah isn’t even the heir--he won’t usually be busy like this. It’s his first post-harvest season since becoming a legal adult, and it’s pretty much over now.” Jisung shrugged, and Chan ruffled his hair, straightening up. “You know they got back like an hour ago?”

Jisung nodded. He’d watched the carriages pull up to the stairs.

“Go find him then, you goof.” Chan snorted dorkily, spreading his arms and pressing his face up to the cool night sky. “Find your man, Jisung-ah! Go to him!”

  
  


\---

  
  


Changbin collapsed in his bed as soon as he got to his room. He hated meetings more than anything and his life for the past couple weeks just felt like one long discussion with various diplomats and dukes and people whose importance Changbin was supposed to know, or care about. He just wanted to be  _ home,  _ not out talking about the price of grain or any of this nonsense. Jimin seemed to thrive on it, ever the diplomat, the people person. Changbin was just thankful that she was the heir and not him, because he had no idea what he’d do if this was the rest of his life.

His room felt bigger and emptier than usual. It felt like that a lot lately. He’d found Jisung and everything had seemed like it was going to fall perfectly into place, but Changbin had been gone so much lately and he felt lonely knowing his soulmate was in a drafty castle while Changbin was making small talk with fat noblemen. He felt bad for not being able to be there for Jisung while the younger boy adapted to palace life.

As much as he hated to admit to missing people, he  _ missed  _ Jisung.

He pressed a finger to the rose on his cheek, dragging it along the stem as he stared at the ceiling. He wondered if Jisung was still awake, then tried to banish the thought from his mind. He could bother Jisung tomorrow. Even though he couldn’t seem to close his eyes.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door, and he jolted into a sitting position. No one ever knocked on his door, especially not at this type of ungodly hour.

“Who is it?” he called, voice rough from three hours of travel and lack of sleep.

As if in response, the door creaked open, revealing a tired looking Jisung. Changbin’s heart clenched at the sight of the younger boy, because regular Jisung was cute but sleepy Jisung should have probably been a federal offense. His pajamas were too big for him, the sweatshirt covering his hands and the pants dragging over his feet and behind him when he walked, hair all rumpled and cheeks even puffier than normal.

“Can I lie down?” Jisung said drowsily, and Changbin nodded wordlessly, lifting the blanket for Jisung to crawl underneath and wiggle into bed next to him, head flopping dramatically onto the pillow.

“I missed you,” Jisung said, eyes nearly shut. Changbin couldn’t help but smile at him. He didn’t know if a time would ever come when Jisung didn’t make his heart rate skyrocket. “I missed you too,” he replied. “You tired?”

“Un-huh,” Jisung mumbled, extracting one hand from the tangled covers to gently trace the lines of Changbin’s rose like Changbin himself had done just a minute earlier. Changbin pressed his own thumb against Jisung’s matching soulmark, squishing the malleable skin of the younger boy’s face until Jisung laughed and sleepily told him to knock it off.

“It’s late,” Changbin said with a soft smile. “Get some rest.”

“You too, hy--” Jisung paused, yawning widely. “Hyung.”

Changbin hummed in assent, eyes drifting shut as Jisung squirmed closer to Changbin, knees bumping his as he placed his head by the prince’s chest. Changbin draped one arm around the younger boy, and fell asleep with Jisung’s sweet-smelling hair tickling his nose.

 

He woke up to find Jisung already sitting up, watching the sunlight stream through the windows, blanket draped over his shoulders and skin glowing, eyelashes absurdly long as he stared in awe out at the view over the forest, unaware that Changbin was watching him.

After a moment where it felt like there might actually be physical pain in his heart, Changbin smiled and said lowly, “You’re pretty.”

Startled, Jisung turned to look at him, finding the other boy awake. A blush immediately spread up his neck as he buried his face in his hands and Changbin laughed, sitting up and trying to pull at his soulmate(!)’s wrists while Jisung laughed and twisted away. The faux-tussle ended with Jisung flopping all his weight over Jisung’s torso and refusing to move until Changbin dug his fingers into the younger boy’s side and Jisung all but flung himself away with a screech of laughter.

Changbin leapt after him, laughing, caging the younger boy between his arms as Jisung screeched a breathy  _ “don’t you fucking dare” _ , interrupted by an indignant scream as Changbin tickled him again before deciding to let the boy breathe.

“Ah, you’re so cute, Jisungie,” Changbin said pitifully, watching with a grin as Jisung blushed, avoiding eye contact.

“Stop saying that, hyung,” he whined, trying to squirm away, but Changbin shushed him by leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss right on the edge of Jisung’s mouth. When he pulled back, Jisung was looking at him, puppy-eyes wide. 

“You missed, hyung,” he said, and Changbin furrowed his brow.

“Huh?”

“You missed,” Jisung repeated, pulling him again, and Jisung’s lips were as soft as Changbin had always thought they looked.

 

In socks and pajamas, they made their way down the velvet stairs, down out the back doors and into the garden where the morning sunlight was dappling the grounds. The snow had melted but most of the flowers hadn’t grown yet again, just a few buds that had poked their way through the hard soil that Jisung knew would only be killed but the last few waves of frost the winter had to offer. They shivered and laughed as Changbin showed Jisung around the gardens, pointing out the few evergreen plants and where everything beautiful  _ would  _ be, come proper spring. 

“It’s already beautiful,” Jisung promised him with a squeeze of his hand, eyes wide as he took in the greenery surrounding them. “I can’t believe I’ve never been out here before.”

“I love the palace,” Changbin said softly. “I mean--it’s not where I want to spend the rest of my life. But it always feels like it has a mind of its own, you know?” Jisung sort of did. The dusty building was old and a bit crumbly in some parts, but it always felt jarringly alive.

“Look,” Jisung said with a laugh, stumbling over uneven ground as he pointed to a slightly secluded section of the garden. There, growing in a small mound of dirt, was a single rose that had somehow already forced life through the very beginning of spring. “It’s us.”

Jisung tipped his head back, eyes trained on the slowly-brightening sky, heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. Observing the younger boy, Changbin privately thought that his smile was brighter than any beam the sun could produce.

Changbin knelt by the rose, delicately holding the stem and avoiding the thorns. There was another bud sprouting off of it, with a smaller flower that had only just bloomed, but was clearly going to die soon--where the stems met had withered, and the smaller rose was barely dangling. Changbin pulled it off the larger rose with ease, standing and turning back to Jisung, who dropped his head to look curiously at what the older boy was up to.

Changbin smiled almost shyly, rolling the stem of the small rose between his fingers before extending it to his soulmate. “Here,” he said, eyes flicking from the small rose to the one painted on Jisung’s cheek.

“For you.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jisquishie) and [tumblr](https://jisquish.tumblr.com) <33
> 
> if you enjoyed it and have a few dollars to spare for a coffee for ur local broke lesbian student, my kofi is [here!!](https://ko-fi.com/jisquish) if not, no worries, ilysm <33


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